All Cats Are Grey At Night
by Iris A. Draven
Summary: Warning: Wincest. If you don't like the idea, don't read the story. No spoilers or anything like that. I do not own Supernatural, nor the characters appearing in it.


All Cats are Grey at Night

Early morning, the phone starts ringing. Blearily, Sam rolls over and nudges Dean. "Dean… phone… Dean?" At his brothers' protest, Sam leans over him and grabs his cell-phone off the night table.

"Hello?"

"Hi honey. It's Missouri. Sorry for wakin' you up, but I been waiting to call you for the last few hours now. And it IS after noon."

"Uh… aha. No problem," Sam answers, "How's it going?" Sam pokes Dean.

"Well, that's why I'm callin' you. See, I have this friend who's having a little bit of a problem. And I thought-"

"That we'd help. Of course. Just tell us where."

"Well, that's a little bit of a problem too."

"What'd'ya mean?" Sam pokes Dean again, trying to wake him up. Dean tosses his hands up, catches Sam's wrists, and holds them tightly as he tries to nod back off.

"She's… not in the U.S., Sam."

"Canada? No problem. We've been there a time or two." Sam struggles to free himself.

"No… not Canada either."

"Mexico?"

"You can't drive there."

"Can't drive? Where are you trying to send us, Missouri?"

"Um… well… St. Petersburg."

"St… Pete… Russia?!!!"

Missouri nods her head gently on her end of the line. "I know, I know. It's a long way, but she really could use your help. She'll pay to fly you there. She owns a bed & breakfast, she'll put you up while you're in town."

"But… Dean…," Sam stammers.

"If I have to put him on a slingshot, and shoot him across the pond, he'll get there. Don't'cha worry bout that."

Sam laughs lightly. "I'll see what I can do." He hangs up, and then shakes his wrists, still in Dean's grip.

"What," Dean mumbles, trying to burrow under the pillows.

"We have a case. Get up," Sam says.

"No. Don't wanna. Can't make me."

"Dean, do not make me drag you out of this bed."

Dean opens one eye just enough to glare at Sam. "You wouldn't dare."

Sam leans his head to one side, then the other. He stands up and begins dragging the blankets off of Dean, tossing them aside. Dean curls into a tight ball, holding onto the sheet. Sam leans over and begins tickling Dean's feet. Dean doesn't react. Sam mutters, "C'mon Dean. You know it tickles…" Dean's toes begin to curl as he starts laughing. Sam, in turn, starts giggling at the faces Dean is making.

Dean kicks his feet out at Sam, hitting his chest. "Stop it Sammy. I give, I give. I'm getting up." Dean yawns widely, rubs his hands over his short, bristly hair, and sits up. "So where are we going, and what are we doing?"

Sam swallows, then looks sideways, "First, we're going to see Missouri. She has a friend with a problem."

Dean nods absently, "Okay. Good."

Sam continues, softly, "She offered to drive us to the airport…"

Dean nods absently, then stops. "What? What airport? Why?"

"Her friend kind of… uh… lives in St. Petersburg."

"Okay. So what? I can drive to Florida, 'though going to Missouri's first is kind of out of the way. We'd get there quicker if she just gave us directions."

"Not that one."

"Not…," Dean looks perplexed, "what are you talking about, Sam?"

"She wants us to go to the St. Petersburg in Russia."

"Russia? No way, not happening. I am not getting on a plane. You remember the last time we were on a plane? We had to exorcise a demon in mid-air! I am not, I repeat, not doing it!"

"She said she'd slingshot you over the pond if she had to."

"Damn straight. No planes for me."

"What are you so scared of? It couldn't possibly be as bad as last time. I mean, we're not demon hunting, if it even is a demon, until we land."

Dean grabs clothing out of his bag. "I'm going to shower. Then I'm going to tell Missouri to go to hell."

Sam gives him a withering look, "That's not very nice, Dean. She's helped us in the past. And she's asking for a favor. We're kind of obligated to-"

Dean shakes his head roughly. "No, no we're not obligated. If it were in the U.S., sure, yeah, we'd do it as a favor. But why are we going to Russia? It's not as if the country is completely devoid of hunters. Call one of them… I don't even speak Russian! How do you tell a demon to fuck off if you don't speak the same language?"

"The same way you do in the U.S., Dean. You tell them in Latin."

Dean huffs, then bangs the bathroom door shut behind him. Sam grins slightly, knowing that despite his protests, Dean's going with him.

______

"Oh, honey, you are a sight for sore eyes!" Missouri clutches Sam into a tight hug. "Get over here, Dean. I'm hugging you too." Dean shuffles over, eyes slit, holding his arms stiffly at his sides as he receives his hug. "Don' be like that, Dean. You know I could whoop your ass better than your daddy ever did."

Dean leans his head on Missouri's shoulder. "Why are you making me fly? You know how I feel about planes." Missouri looks to Sam.

Sam nods, taking Dean's hand, "Dean, I promise not to make fun of you unmercifully if you'll just get on the plane and shut up about it." Dean's eyes, full of fear and doubt, reach Sam's.

"Promise?"

"I said not unmercifully. I'll still make fun of you a little."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Missouri smiles. "It's settled then. You leave in," she checks her watch, "about four hours. Better pack warm, it's cold in Russia."

______

"Dean, you're cutting off circulation."

Dean looks up at Sam, slowly releasing his death grip on his wrist, and digging his fingers hard enough into the armrest to turn his knuckles white. "I don't know how you talked me into this."

Sam grins, "I believe it was threats and filling you with vodka before we got on board."

Dean nods blankly, then opens his eyes widely, "What was that noise?!"

Sam points out the window. "It's called an engine, Dean. You like engines. They make many manly sounds."

"Yeah, well, I prefer engines on the ground."

"Technically, we still are. Haven't taken off yet."

Dean closes his eyes, thunking his head against the headrest. "Just… tell me if we're going to die, okay?"

Sam laughs, patting Dean's arm reassuringly, "Yes, Dean. I will let you know if I hear strange, unusual sounds, or just if I see a gremlin on the wing."

"That's not funny Sam."

______

A crackle over the radio announces, "We will be landing in St. Petersburg in approximately 20 minutes. The current temperature is-"

"Cold as hell," Sam mutters.

"-and the current time is 4:57 p.m."

Dean glares menacingly at Sam. "And exactly where are we going?"

Sam shrugs. "Don't know. Missouri said we'd be picked up at the airport."

"Okay, great. By who? And taken where?"

"By her friend, who I can assure you is very nice and speaks English. We'll be fine, Dean. She owns a bed and breakfast place, and thinks she has a poltergeist. Look at this as a working vacation. Kick a little supernatural ass, hit the town, and bring home a few bottles of vintage Russian vodka… Should be right up your alley."

Dean attempts a grin, "We could have just mail ordered the vodka you know."

Sam reaches out and holds Dean's hand. "Yeah, I know. But it just wouldn't be the same."

"Good enough for me. Oh, and you SO owe me for this."

"Your wish will be my command, sir."

Dean quirks up an eyebrow, "Sir?"

Sam shrugs, "Just trying to be nice."

"Aha. So… about that wish… What are the chances of taking a boat back home?"

"Uh, as in, like, a cruise or something," Sam asks.

Dean nods vigorously. "Beats a giant, mechanical, heavier than air –"

"Got it. Okay, yeah, sure."

______

Dean, looking slightly green, stumbles out of the airplane tunnel, and kisses the terminal wall. "Thank God, solid concrete."

Sam, slightly amused, just watches him.

"Excuse me. Are you… Sam… and Dean… Winchester," asks a small, petite blonde. She's wearing a quizzical expression and seems bewildered by Dean's strange antics.

Sam nods, "I'm Sam. Dean… well, Dean's happy to be on the ground again."

The woman laughs. "Oh, nervous flyer, huh? That explains the-," she gestures towards Dean, who is now hugging a window frame. "I'm Missouri's friend, Katrina. Katrina Mosley. Nice to meet you." She holds out her hand.

Sam shakes it, still watching Dean. "Uh… just give me a minute, please." Sam walks over to Dean, pulls him upright, and looks into his eyes. "Do you know who you are?"

Dean shakes him off and says, "Yes. I'm Dean, you're Sam. We're in Russia of all the crazy – uh, Sam, why is that woman staring at me?"

"That's Katrina. You missed the introductions. She's the one we're here to see."

Dean walks over, sticks out his hand, and acts as if all is completely normal. "Hi, how's it going?"

Katrina shrugs slightly, "Well, not very good, obviously. I mean, I did send for you." She gives a nervous, twittering laugh. "I'm trying to run a business here and… well, someone, or something, seems upset at the idea."

Sam smiles reassuringly, "Just let us get our bags and then we'll take a look."

______

"So, seems… cozy," Sam says, looking around the room he and Dean are sharing.

"Seems cold," Dean replies, pulling his jacket tighter.

"There's a fireplace." Sam gestures towards the burning flame in the corner of the room. "Get closer."

Dean complies numbly. "So, an assumed poltergeist, huh?"

"That's Katrina's best guess," Sam answers, "though I don't know how much experience she really has with these things. Items moving on their own, screaming noises, moaning, and such. Seems likely."

"Yeah, and if we've learned one thing from dad, it's that what seems likely is hardly ever the cause."

Sam nods glumly. "I think we just have to wait and see what happens at night."

Dean shudders slightly, though he is still close to the fire. "So what do we do until then?" He shivers.

Sam walks over, wrapping his arms around Dean. "Think of a way to keep you warm." He runs his hands lightly over Dean's arms and back. "Wow, you're freezing. What happened to the tough guy exterior?"

"It froze once we hit Siberia here," Dean grumbles.

Sam grins, "This is hardly Siberia. That would be even colder."

Dean grunts and answers, "You know what I mean Sammy. I like heat."

Sam plops to the floor in front of Dean. "I can think of a few ways to heat you up," he replies, raising an eyebrow.

Dean narrows his eyes. "Sammy, there is no way in hell you are getting me naked with as cold as it is in this room."

Sam pouts, "There's blankets. And I promise you quite a bit of body heat."

Dean rolls his eyes. "And people think I'm the insatiable one. If they only knew, beneath that innocent exterior-"

Sam says, "Hey now, we were on a plane for almost a full day. Just humor me."

Dean, still fully clothed, heads towards the bed. "Fine, but you're gonna have to work to get me out of these clothes."

Sam grins, "Wouldn't have it any other way. Take off your coat at least."

"Looking for freebies already, Sammy?"

Sam walks over to Dean, grabs him roughly, and plants a smoldering kiss on his lips, then begins nibbling on his ear, across his jawbone, and down his neck. Dean struggles out of his jacket, trying not to disturb what Sam's doing. He tosses it onto the chair he'd recently occupied. Sam backs up slowly, until his legs hit the edge of the bed. Tossing back the covers, he pulls Dean onto him, covering them both with the downy warmness of the blankets.

Dean pulls back, gasping for breath. "Damn, Sam."

Sam smiles sweetly. "And you thought this was a bad idea."

Dean begins unbuttoning Sam's shirt. "Not bad, just cold…"

Sam helps Dean get him out of his shirt, and then starts tugging on Dean's. "Lose it buddy."

Dean slowly, carefully, removes his shirt, shivering slightly as the cool blankets hit his back. Sam pulls him down onto his warm chest, rubbing his hands up and down Dean's back. He then flips them over so he's on top of Dean, leaning over him with the blankets pulled back slightly. He leans closer, and then curls up slightly, nipping along Dean's waistline. Dean arches his back, pressing into Sam's lips. Sam undoes the button on Dean's jeans and starts caressing his hipbone. Dean struggles out of his pants while pulling on Sam's.

Sam laughs, "I thought you were cold, Dean."

"Was. Now I'm not," his breath hitches and he is reduced to speaking one word at a time, "You. Naked. Now."

Sam obliges, pushing two pairs of jeans onto the floor next to the bed. He traces his tongue down Dean's neck, across his collarbone, then begins working his way downwards, alternating between using his nails with light scratches and his lips with soft kisses. Dean pulls his head under the blankets, clutching Sam as he digs his nails into his back, leaving half-moon circles. Sam swirls his tongue over the head of Dean's dick. Dean shudders, his nails pushing even harder into Sam's back. Sam winces, and Dean removes his hands.

"Sorry, Sammy. Oh my God," he sighs deeply, now tangling his fingers into Sam's bushy hair. Sam chuckles softly, his breath hitting Dean in blasts of warm air. He continues using his mouth and tongue until Dean pushes him off, pulling him upwards. "Kiss me Sam." With Dean's hands still tangled in his hair, Sam leans over, nipping Dean's bottom lip, then separating his lips softly with his tongue. Dean moans deeply, sinking into his brother's hands, before he pulls back sharply, gasping for air. "What's gotten into you," he asks.

Sam shrugs, leaning back. "I like the cold. It's… invigorating."

Dean mumbles incoherently and bends to Sam's left nipple, catching it in between his teeth and licking the tip gently. He repeats this movement with Sam's right nipple, then traces his teeth gently down Sam's side. When he hits Sam's hipbone, he leans back, pushing his hands under Sam's hips and raising him slightly off the bed. He begins teasing Sam's thighs, tracing up them with his tongue, then sliding back down just before hitting anything. Sam wriggles impatiently, causing Dean to slide his tongue roughly between his balls. Sam gasps, hips bucking, as Dean continues to suck on him, slipping first one, and then the other into and out of his mouth. With no warning, he blows gently on Sam, sending chills up his spine. Sam responds by curling his backbone slowly all the way up his body, tossing his head back sharply into the pillows.

He reaches down, his fingers playing gently with the short hair at the nape of Dean's neck. Dean groans happily, shaking his head from side to side before bending lower over Sam's body. Starting at the base, he traces his tongue up Sam's dick, pausing momentarily before taking the head into his mouth. Keeping his lips closed, he intertwines his tongue around Sam. Sam moans, sinking into the mattress, holding Dean close to him. "Y-You've got me pretty c-close," Sam sputters out.

Dean, grinning, leans back slightly and asks, "You want me to stop?"

"Good God, no!"

Dean leans back over Sam, sucking purposefully and humming gently in the back of his throat. He speeds up as he feels the first few beads of pre-cum leaking from Sam. Slipping his tongue gently into the tip of Sam's dick, he feels Sam stiffen sharply before pouring into Dean's mouth. Dean softly continues as he waits for Sam to relax. When he does, he slips carefully up alongside Sam, pushing his cock into his side.

Sam, without speaking, turns onto his side, offering himself up to Dean. With his fingers, Dean begins exploring Sam's ass, loosening him up. He slips in one finger, and begins nipping the base of Sam's neck as he slips in another. Sam groans softly, pushing Dean's fingers deeper inside him. Hastily, Dean removes his fingers and begins teasing Sam's ass with his cock. Sam groans and pushes himself roughly against Dean. Dean gasps as he feels himself slipping effortlessly into Sam.

"You okay," Dean asks needlessly, as Sam nods and moves with the motion of Dean's hips. Dean circles his arms around Sam's body, holding him close, and forcing him to stop moving. Sam whines gently, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Dean. Dean kisses his lips, and then nips at the tip of Sam's tongue. Sam whines again, fighting against Dean's stillness. "Just wait for it," Dean soothes, loosening his grip ever so slightly. Sam can't and forces Dean in and out of him. Dean, overtaken by the force, shoves himself roughly into Sam and holds him tightly against his chest, shuddering as he comes. Gasping, he releases Sam, falling onto his back. Sam rolls over, snuggling into the warmth now radiating off of their bodies as he listens to Dean's breathing smoothing out. Dean snakes one arm under Sam's body, pulling him closer, then murmuring into Sam's neck.

Sam pulls back a quarter of an inch, "What'd you say?"

Dean repeats himself, "Love you, I said."

Sam, smiling brilliantly replies, "I love hearing you say that."

Dean nods into Sam, already half asleep. Sam shakes him gently, "Don't you want to stay awake to search out the poltergeist?"

Dean shrugs limply. "If it as bad as she says, it'll wake me up," he says, yawning around his words.

"Good point." Sam snuggles closer, closing his eyes.

______

Deans sits up suddenly, causing Sam to awaken and disentangle their limbs. Dean holds a finger up his lips, not making eye contact with Sam.

Sam looks around, not seeing anything, and then looks quizzically at Dean. Dean shakes his head minutely, just as a high-pitched screeching fills the air. "That," Dean says, "must be our poltergeist."

"Where's it coming from," Sam asks.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "A couple different directions, actually."

Sam pulls on his jeans and sets his feet on the floor. Dean follows suit and they both tiptoe towards the door. Opening it, they see two sets of muddy little footprints appearing on the floor as pictures rattle and fall to the hallway floor.

Dean raises his eyebrows, "Two of them?"

Sam shakes his head. "No way. Far too convenient."

"I agree." He pulls out a gun and looks at Sam, "I can't shoot rock salt into something that I can't see."

"But we don't even know if rock salt will work on… whatever this is," Sam says.

Dean nods, "Right. So… guess you'd better start researching."

"I'm on it," Sam sighs, pulling out his laptop as Dean rushes into the hallway, following the footprints and noises.

______

"Here spooky, freaky, little noise-makers," Dean calls as he follows them into the kitchen. Watching the footprints, he takes aim and shoots towards one set. Nothing happens for a moment, then Dean falls backwards as he is pushed by two invisible sets of hands. "Ah, shit," Dean cries, hitting the floor.

______

"Footprints, footprints…" Sam searches using muddy footprints as his main clue. He begins chewing in the end of a pencil as he taps furiously at the keyboard.

______

Katrina rushes into the kitchen, sees Dean lying on the floor, and backs up slowly. One set of footprints rushes her, pulling her hair, and screeching in her face. She puts her hands up, striking blindly in front of her. Dean gets up, fumbles for his gun, pointing it at Katrina, and then tosses it aside, diving towards her, arms outstretched. He hits something, and then sees footprints heading out of the room. "Stay here," he calls over his shoulder, once again chasing after something he can't see.

______

"That's it," Sam cries, leaping up and rushing after Dean. He bumps into Katrina in the kitchen. "A broom, where do you keep your brooms?"

She points, "Closet but…"

Sam doesn't hear her question as he is already rushing to the closet, pulling free a broom, and tossing it at Katrina. "Beat the walls," he calls, following the sound of Dean struggling.

______

"Sam, you better know what the hell this is," Dean says as he sees Sam appear in the doorway.

"It's a domovoi. Two of them, to be exact."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you need to let go of what you're fighting. He might be the right one."

"The right what," Dean asks, not letting go yet.

"The guardian of the house. Each Russian, or Polish, house has a domovoi. It protects those who live within the walls. It turns out Katrina's got two. They just don't play well with others. So let go of that one, he might be the one with the right to be here."

Dean loosens his grip, then drops his hands.

Two sets of muddy footprints face off once again. Katrina, still beating the walls, looks to Sam, bewildered.

Sam calls out, "Grandfather Domovoy, help chase away this intruder!"

One set of muddy footprints heads quickly out the door, disappearing into the snow as the other set scuttles quickly under the stove.

______

"I want to thank you guys," Katrina says, watching Sam set out milk and biscuits.

Dean is watching him, confused.

"It's actually a blessing," Sam says, "I don't think too many of these little guys are really left around anymore."

"A small, mud-bearing creature is a gift," Dean asks.

Katrina nods, "Oh yes. The domovoi are spoken of most highly in the small villages and provinces around here. I just thought they were stories."

Sam grins, "Most stories turn out to be true around us. Just keep him happy and you shouldn't have any more problems. And, if you do, you always have the broomstick handy."

______

"Ah, this is the life," Dean says, settling into his chair.

"No more fear," Sam asks.

"I've never been scared of deckchairs, sun, and a little bit of relaxation," Dean replies, settling down on the upper deck of the cruise ship. "Just wake me in time for the dinner show," he says, placing his dark shades firmly in place and folding his arms under his head.


End file.
